


star among the stars

by OccasionallyCreative



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/M, Face-Sitting, Force Bond (Star Wars), Inappropriate Use of the Force, Mutual Masturbation, Pegging, The Force Ships It, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-30
Updated: 2018-05-08
Packaged: 2019-04-30 09:01:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14493471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OccasionallyCreative/pseuds/OccasionallyCreative
Summary: Rey and Kylo are pining. The Force is an ancient being, and tired of their shit.Something's gotta give.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [diasterisms](https://archiveofourown.org/users/diasterisms/gifts), [crossingwinter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crossingwinter/gifts).



> ... I genuinely don't know how to explain this?

When she gives birth to another child, she knows their stages.

Infant first. Child next. Adolescence third. Reality last, and when her children come back to her, she embraces them with soft, warm, loving arms and she wraps them in starlight.

Adolescence, to tell the truth, is the most difficult part for her to get right.

Her children are often too tall, too shy or too exuberant, gangly, trying too much to rush towards adulthood and its realities. _Slow down_ , she wants to whisper to them, with stars pouring from her fingertips and surrounding her eyes like lashes. _Let me flow through you._

She is known by many names. They call her Maker, for the most part. They call her the Force, generally. She is a Force, true; but more than that, she is universe upon universe, flying through planets like a needle through a thread, rejecting those who seek to control her.

Her long red hair glows like fire and her skin shimmers like ice. Her robes are nebulas, changing through thousands of years from blinding white to churning, aching black.

She is neither Light nor Dark.

She merely _is_.

The adolescents, however, don’t want to know her. They want to know themselves. That, she admires.

But sweet things.

They are so clumsy about it all.

Desperate to know themselves, they seek identity everywhere. Their garments, their paths, even their sexuality is an identity. _It will come in time_ , she laments as they rummage in their pants, tugging gently at her skin, asking her to guide them.

They are children. Such _children_.

These two especially.

One in black robes, the other in grey. They think they are clever, hiding in their quarters and shoving their fingers down their pants, aching for each other.

Rey of Jakku is her strongest child. Ben Solo is equal.

Silly, silly boy, she chides. Silly, silly girl.

“Ben!” wails Rey of Jakku.

“Rey,” grunts Ben Solo.

It is exhausting frankly.

Idly, she allows herself to be tugged between the two. Out of a sheer sense of perversity, for she is ancient, and shame is something not felt by her, older than the stars themselves. She formed the stars, drawing her palm across the darkness of space. She has birthed planets and universes and has a million names. What time has she for _shame_?

It is like a mother paying attention to children tugging on the hem of her robes. She slides against Rey of Jakku, her red fire hair becoming a dull brown and her stars above her as she stirs within Rey of Jakku’s groin, swirling and turning like a whirlpool until Rey sees the galaxy and beyond, panting and coming wetly.

Rey of Jakku has the grace to blush.

Ben Solo tugs viciously at his connection to the Force. She slides into him too, twining starlit fingers into his pale ones, giggling and sending a thrill, a shudder, up his spine as he rapidly brings himself close, close to the edge. She withdraws, settling in the low of his back, pressing her weight forwards towards his cock, wriggling so another, thicker, shudder runs up his back.

He sees a galaxy he knows not what to do with in front of him and gasps. Every muscle in his back flexes and twitches.

“Rey… Rey…” Repeatedly, her name, as he watches in fascination his come staining the sheets.

It is an amusement, and she withdraws from them both. Towards the ends of the galaxy she travels, spiralling through time towards the end, where it burns, and it is beautiful.

Time is incalculable to her, but she knows it is at least a night since she was called this strongly by two of her children.

Here they are, tugging and whining again.

From the burning stars, she has been taken. She watches, floating idly like swimming in a gentle pool, them both.

Rey of Jakku is in her quarters. Ben Solo is… on his throne.

To punish them, she waves her hand.

Rey of Jakku screams, flipping onto her back and looking away from Ben Solo, who is still, with his hand frozen around his cock. This time, it is Ben Solo who has the decency to blush. Rey struggles to tug up her pants. She, ancient being, was interrupted by the adolescence of these two powers. If they cannot be responsible, neither can she.

So, she reaches out, the stars glittering in a crown around her head, as she shakes Rey of Jakku’s wrist. Rey duly fumbles, again and again, until she gives up and sits in the middle of the connection with her pants around her ankles.

“It was real.”

“Why does that bother you?” Rey of Jakku asks, sharply, too aware of her exposed nature. Above them, she smiles and twines her fingers together, rolling her thumbs in circles around each other.

“Where are you?” Rey asks her second question after a silence. There is no tug between them, and she is happy, not to be pulled at for attention by these two children.

Ben Solo swallows thickly, his hand unmoving from his cock. “Where are you?”

The Force, one of her many names, dips her finger into the air. Ripples like water spread out, shattering the fragile connection. Rey of Jakku and Ben Solo furiously push and pull, their cries pinches on her star-covered skin.

To the burning of planets, she returns.

Nary a week.

It is barely a week when she feels them again, tugging on her. They plead with her, and with each other.

Diving into the dark pool of space, she swims through black holes and exploding stars to break to the surface of their universe, their galaxy.

They float listlessly over a planet green and pure.

Rey of Jakku’s forehead is pressed to the cold glass of the window, and her skin is pale in the glow of the forest moon. Ben Solo is behind her, his cheek pressed against her back, his hips moving in a frantic rhythm.

“Oh Maker—”

He dots kisses over the plane of her shoulders. Bites down.

“ _Force_ —”

She floats with them, lazily kicking her legs. Her robes shifting with the changing of the moon’s days, sun to the night, night to the sun, as the ship glides.

She crafted these constellations with the vigour of youth. Passed them through her fingertips and kissed them to make them shine.

“Rey,” Ben Solo says, one day in an endless time. It is maybe a week. She is with them for all of it. Within them, as they demand, wanting to see the galaxy behind their eyes together.

Sweat glistening on his broad chest (how Rey of Jakku admires him), Ben looks at Rey of Jakku intensely, with fire in his eyes.

“Hm?”

“I want you to fuck me in the ass.”

The Force laughs. Her laughter shatters dying stars and births new planets. She is Death, she is decay, she is violence and peace; she feeds new life and is what Ben Solo needs to gain the courage to ask his Jedi love to fuck him in the ass.

They are no longer adolescent.

Oh, no. Truly, they are grown.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't promise pegging and not deliver.

“Do you think the Force watches us?”

Rey looks up. She looks so studious, her hair brushed back from her face, but her cheeks flushed with excitement, that Kylo, amidst this war, even though they’re enemies, chuckles. Her eyes narrow, the slope of her brow creasing.

“What?” She doesn’t allow him to answer, carrying on with her prep. “The Force is life. We watch each other and watch ourselves. I hope, however, for tonight – that the Force looks away.”

She reaches forward, sliding her thighs against his hips, straddling him. Her hands stroke the plane of his torso, bending her head. A mixture of kisses and bites against his skin have him sighing and moaning and arching his back. Soft, languid heat spreads out in the room, their signatures fizzing, buzzing with anticipation.

Rey leans back and, in the silence, where he slowly pants, she cups his cheek. Between forefinger and thumb, she holds his chin, bidding him to look her fully in the eyes.

“I’m selfish,” she whispers. “I want you to myself.”

“Scavenger.”

She kisses him again, her breaths warm like sunshine against his lips. She is warm and sharp and real. He is cold and vague, an assembly of parts, but he feels whole in these moments.

If only she would love him. If only she would _join_ him. They could be like this, without question, without hesitation.

Her frown mellows. Her grip on his chin loosens, her fingers descending to his shoulder. She squeezes until he feels her nails sinking into his skin.

She almost looks grief-struck.

“How?” She breathes the question, and his lungs stop for a hanging moment, a moment where it feels like the moment when a spinner is about to tip over. Her grip slides away from his skin. He whines, nuzzling her palm with his cheek as she cups it.

“How can you believe that?” she asks.

“I’m selfish,” he echoes. He wants more than these moments, floating through the galaxy on a ship’s floor with the controls on autopilot. He wants to love this desert child, this creature as he is meant to think of her (but never quite can), day and night, and lose galaxies in her arms.

Something sighs, something beyond them. It’s a warm sensation, spreading through their bodies. Like there are voices, but these are good voices. They are his own voice, opening his eyes until he sees with clarity. Her deep brown hair, in tendrils that frame her face. And the crystal sharp tears in her eyes.

He tugs at her hair, and gently guides her back towards him, watching her all the while. _Is this okay_ , he screams through his look, _Am I right this time?_

He presses a tender kiss to the space underneath her eyes, where the beginning of tears lingers. The tension loosens. Her tears flow, and they are at once on their sides, her body curled into his and her shoulders shaking with long overdue sobs.

His mind races – _am I the cause I’m so sorry Rey I never wanted to hurt you the last thing I can do is hurt her_ – but it’s momentary. His mind seeks to comfort her. That’s his only purpose. To comfort her and hold her and kiss her hair; to gift unto her his warmth, the last remaining patches of light in him to stop her hurt.

“I am selfish,” she says later, when her cheeks are dry, their signatures and minds calm. Sitting up, the bunk sheets slipping from her body, displaying her tiny tits that he sees every time he closes his eyes during a dull meeting, she rolls him onto his back and straddles his hips. His cock twitches at the mere presence of her. She’s warm, willing. His mind thinks of her cunt. How wet it is, how ready she is for him, every time they do this. Whether in an alleyway on a strange planet or in a room in a Coruscanti tavern where the owner doesn’t ask questions or in a ship’s bunk. He moans. She grins in return.

She knows exactly what she’s doing.

Her fingers dance over the length of his collarbone, tickling underneath his chin. He hums and licks his lips. She grins in return. Her eyes dazzle him with how bright they are.

“You’re selfish too. And selfish boys don’t get to have fun. Not until they prove themselves.”

He nods dumbly, taken completely in by her. Just her. It vaguely touches him that he should be ashamed of the fact a pair of eyes, so pretty and dark, can bring him so quickly to destruction.

Ben Solo’s wanted to be destroyed by this woman since he met her. His Force signature vibrates, buzzing with excitement. Rey catches the sensation with a gasp, and she twitches as a shiver shoots up her spine.

He drinks her in, a slack smile growing on his lips as she clambers over his body, inelegant and graceful all at once as she grins down at him, her centre above his head. He tilts his chin up, his hands already winding their way around her thighs. This is his favourite thing. To be completely pinned, to the edge of suffocation and know it’s all worth it because he’s being _good_.

“You’re beautiful,” he says. Her fingers stroke through his curls, pulling slightly. He makes a noise at the low of his throat, the sound rumbling.

“Flattery gets you only so far, Solo,” she says before she lets go, lowering her cunt towards his mouth. She’s wet, but she isn’t soaking like all those porn holos promise. He must work towards that, stretching his neck so he can kiss and lick and drink all of her in the off-beat rhythm that keeps her on her toes and her hips grinding slightly on the tip of his nose, so good for skimming the tip of her clit.

She uses and abuses him like this, pinning his face with her thighs, leaving him erect and desperate not to come while she takes and takes and takes.

It’s a scavenger’s greed, just as she promises.

He gives and gives and gives in return, with a knight’s charity, until she’s screaming and whining, panting.

“You’re amazing,” she says between squeals. “Fuck! So good for me, all for me—”

She full-on rides his face through her orgasm and he happily can do nothing but hang on, gulping air and pleasure at once, filling his lungs with the buzzing in her heart and his head; both so pleased he’s been so good for her.

It’s the closest he feels to the Light, his lips wet and his eyes watching her as she flops onto her back, beside him. She throws her arm over her eyes, one leg bent at the knee, her body tangled atop the sheets.

Drying his mouth with a towel on the bedside table, he turns onto his side, facing her. Her eyelids are half-closed, her chest pulsing with heavy breaths. She feels her glance towards him as he shifts over to snuggle against her side, his arm thrown around her waist.

He peppers her shoulder with kisses, insistent.

“I know.” She pats his forearm, but her fingers intertwine with his fingers barely a moment later, lifting his knuckles to her lips. “You’ve earned it.”

* * *

They’ve both researched this. Since Ben’s announcement (he calls it a request, but there was something too definite to the sentence _I want you to fuck me in the ass_ for Rey to ever think it a request), she has watched holos, read up on equipment on her private server and slipped away on supply runs to Coruscant to purchase what was needed.

Dressed as she was in civilian clothes, a scarf wrapped around her head and a chunky jacket covering her top half, the shop’s Hrakian proprietor failed to recognise her. They smiled like she was any other customer, unaware their latest client was intending to fuck the Supreme Leader of the First Order with the dildo that came ‘highly recommended’.

“What is it?” Ben asks, his signature tense with the sheer thrill of knowing what’s about to happen. The prep is complete. Her cock, as she thinks of it while it sits snugly in her chosen harness, comfortably tight around her hips, is slick with lube. His ass is ready and waiting.

“I’ll tell you later. Right now—”

She runs her hands over his broad back and shoulders, draping herself over his body. The head of the dildo brushed the inner skin of Ben’s thigh. He jumped, gasping, half-laughing. It was a dark, velvet sound, rushed with joy.

Rey nibbles on his earlobe.

“Do you want to be fucked, Ben Solo?”

He grunts, shoving his hips back against hers, whining when she pulls back.

“Greedy boy. Impatient boy,” she adds, scraping her blunt nails against his left buttock. She smirks at his whine. He’ll be howling like a Loth-wolf if she isn’t careful.

And he did do _so_ good for her earlier.

She does one final check, sliding her fingers into his pink hole. He grunts, slapping his fists into the sheets to prevent himself from falling forward.

“Maker, if you’re like this now Ben—”

“I can take it, Rey. Please,” he begs. He repeats the word but jerks as she traces her fingertip over his prostate. “P-please.”

“Okay.” She lines his spine with kisses, adding teeth as she kisses his right butt cheek. “Ready?”

“Forever.”

She slides her cock into him. It’s long, on the thin side, slightly curved. Crimson red. (She thought he might enjoy that.) He takes it beautifully. He asked if she thought the Force watched them. At the time, it was an easy question to dismiss. He babbles, clenching the sheets tight as she slowly withdraws. She slides back into him, gentle as possible, rubbing soothing circles into the low of his back with her left hand at his hip, keeping him close to her. She hears a howl pass his lips anyway.

On the second thrust, she hears the tear of cotton.

“Ben,” she gasps, sweat beading on her brow.

“Rey – Rey—” He pants hard. There’s a hypnotism to this, watching her long red cock slide in and out of him. If she watches for long enough, stars will spark behind her eyes, her mind lost to the beauty of galaxies beyond their own, to the possibilities they might give them. She draws herself in and the Force to her centre with a breath.

“W-wait – w-why’d you stop?” Ben babbles underneath her, his hand flailing out. She catches it with her right hand, squeezing it tightly. Ben laughs with relief. “Oh Rey. Please keep – fuck me, please. Your cock’s so big, it fits me so well, I can’t believe—”

“I’ll bring you home, don’t you worry, Solo. We’re nearly there,” she pants, withdrawing and slamming back into him, her hips flush against his. His body heat is blistering.

“Such a good boy—”

“I’m so good – Take me home, take me home, please – your cock—”

She keeps up her pace, the Force flowing through her, through him and back in a cycle of desire, disbelief, relief, joy, as she leans forward. She brushes her palm against his length, flat against his belly.

“You ready to come with my cock in your rear, Solo?” she whispers. She tightens her grip and pumps his cock.

Barely a moment he lasts.

With a whimper, a shudder, another singular howl that echoes through the empty ship, Ben comes, white liquid spattering on his belly and the towel underneath him.

A second later, his laughter rings loud and clear in the hangar.

“I know,” Rey says, kissing his shoulders. “I know. Relax, Ben, relax.”

His laughter fades, his head dropping into a nod.

“Yes, yes.”

With his body pliant and sagging, adrenaline quickly overcome by exhaustion, she withdraws from him.

Climbing off the bed, leaving him spread-eagled on the bed, she leaves for the fresher.

* * *

The water runs into the sink. Rey splashes water against the red silicone, washing it.

She catches a glance of herself in the mirror.

“That… just happened,” she murmurs to her reflection. She grins, tipping her forehead against the mirror’s cool surface. Her voice drops to a whisper. Water collects in the sink bowl, and the dildo gently floats to the top. “That – actually happened.”

Remembering herself, she plucks the dildo out of the water, turning off the taps. Finding a towel, she wipes it down.

Lying on the bunk, she finds Ben as she left him. Prone and legs spread. On his face, she can see there’s a stupid lazy grin, just about visible with his cheek squashed against the pillow.

He groans, tilting his hips up as she pulls the towel from underneath him.

Rey traces the lines of the scratches she left on his backside. With her touch on his skin, like it’s a lullaby, Ben soon sinks into sleep.

Quietly, she slides down the bunk to lie against him. She takes his arm and winds it around her shoulders. Subconsciously, he tugs her closer. His breath tickles her hair.

She draws shapes into his muscle until she falls asleep.

“I love you,” she mumbles.

The ship continues to float on by. The stars shine, and the Force is at peace as Dark and Light sleep side by side.


End file.
